


Karaoke Night

by StarCollector88



Series: Activities Night [2]
Category: The Monkees (Band), The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 10:30:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20274457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarCollector88/pseuds/StarCollector88
Summary: Micky plans the next activity night after winning a bet during Truth or Dare.





	Karaoke Night

**Author's Note:**

> Second story in the series.

“Round two of my five picks in a row!” Micky shouted enthusiastically.

There was a collective groan from everyone else in the room.

“Remind me again why you so stupidly allowed Micky to have control over activity night?” Mike looked at Davy with disdain.

“I thought there was no way he would be able to tolerate all the truths _and_ dares!”

“We’re talking about Micky here,” Mike answered. “I can’t think of many times he was unwilling to do anything.”

“Don’t completely put this on me! You could have stopped me, it’s just as much of my fault as it is your and Peter’s.”

“Hey, what did I do?” Peter frowned.

“Well,” Micky had sidled up to everyone and startled them with his sudden presence, “it seems to me that there is no use arguing about it now since the deal is over and done with. What are you guys so worried about anyway? My ideas are thrilling and…”

“Stupid?”

“Dangerous?”

“Lame?”

“Wow, tough room. And what do you mean lame?”

“Last time we played truth or dare, hardly anything that was what I’d call thrilling. You must be losing your touch,” Davy taunted.

“Davy, I swear if you egg him on anymore and cause him to think of something ridiculous I’m gonna knock your teeth out,” Mike threatened grabbing Davy’s shirt collar.

Davy gulped and retreated farther away from the angry Texan.

“I think truth or dare was thrilling, Micky,” Peter offered. “I was on the edge of my seat…the floor thinking about what people were going to ask or tell me to do.”

“Thank you, my good man.”

“To reiterate a point that has been made dozens of times, if Peter agrees with you it isn’t good,” Davy said bitterly.

Mike shot him a disapprovingly look which quieted the Brit. “So Mick, what’s the plan for tonight?”

“I’m glad you asked buddy. I saw this flyer outside the Japanese restaurant the other day…”

“The same one with the Dragonman?” Peter interrupted.

“That was a Chinese restaurant,” Davy rolled his eyes.

“No, no, no, the new one on Baker Street, _Sake to Me_. Anyway, I saw this flyer,” Micky said handing the paper over to Mike.

Mike had a funny look on his face. “What’s ‘car-a-oak’?”

“It’s pronounced _kere-oke,_” Micky explained. “It’s this new thing where you go onstage and sing.”

“We already do that. It’s our job,” Peter scratched his head in confusion.

“Not like we do. You pick a song that you would like to sing from a list provided. The song plays with only instrumental and no words. There’s a teleprompter in front of you with the lyrics. It tells you when to sing the words along with the song.”

“That sounds really weird,” Davy commented. “Why would you want to sing songs that aren’t yours in front of other people? When we could sing our own songs and get paid.”

“We aren’t getting paid tonight, we are doing it for fun,” Micky picked up his initial enthusiasm again.

Mike stood with his chin in his hand contemplating the idea. “Y’know if someone happens to see us there singing these songs it could possibly open the door for some paying gigs.”

“I didn’t even think of that! Sounds like karaoke night just got the wool hat stamp of approval.”

Peter looked pensive. “What if I don’t know any of the songs?”

“How could you possibly not know any songs? They wouldn’t pick obscure songs. It would be common songs that most people would be able to choose from,” Micky explained.

Peter’s face lit up. “That’s a relief.”

“Sounds like that’s three out of four for interest. What do you say, Jones?” Micky asked.

Davy had a blank expression that no one was able to read at the moment. “I’m guessing there may be some cute birds there…”

“Oh, of course! And then you could serenade them with their favorite songs in the tone of your British accent.”

He thought about that for a moment. “Alright Dolenz, you’ve sold me. I’m in too!”

Micky jumped and pumped his fist into the air. “Gentlemen, go don your finest duds and we will head to the lounge of _Sake to Me_!”

“It’s like he’s leading his men into battle,” Peter said with a look of awe.

“Isn’t he though?” Mike answered. “A battle to get through these picks of his.”

* * *

The group arrived at the Japanese restaurant with some confidence and plenty of nervous energy. They sang for live audiences all the time with their own material which could be well received or mocked mercilessly. Yet, for some reason, getting in front of a crowd and singing in this manner was more nerve wracking. They were sorta in their element and sorta out of their element. It wasn’t something you could rehearse, unless you count singing along to the radio rehearsing. This was different territory. New and different were always a bit scary. And it didn’t help that someone had to make a spectacle of themselves…

“Micky, I still can’t believe you’re dressed like that!” Davy complained.

“I still can’t believe you’re dressed like that!” Micky countered.

“What? Normal?”

“Yeah, I thought you were here to score some chicks. You can’t do that looking like an average Joe.”

“I am far from average,” Davy said cockily. “You look ridiculous. You’re peacocking.”

Micky had on a dark purple crushed velvet suit with a ruffly white ascot sticking out and sunglasses. “I’m looking the part.”

“Cool it you two!” Mike snapped. “Let’s get in there and try not to make fools of ourselves.”

“Then maybe Micky shouldn’t come in with us,” Davy teased as Micky took a swipe at him.

Peter interrupted the conversation by bravely pushing the doors open to the restaurant. There was an option right away for the dining area or the lounge area. The guys followed Peter into the dimly lit lounge. It reeked of cigarettes and booze immediately. Davy coughed and Peter felt nauseous instantly. There was a stage in the front center of the room surrounded by small round tables with candles on them and four red chairs at each. Once the initial shock of the smell wore off the sound of a wailing cat stung their ears. Upon further investigation it was no cat, but a 50-something-year-old man attempting his version of _Love Me Do_.

Davy turned around instantly in an attempt to leave and Mike swiftly grabbed his collar and drug him along to follow Micky and Peter to a table near the middle. All the seats up front were surprisingly filled as were the ones in the back. People were probably checking the new fad out with pure curiosity. The Monkees settled in and were approached by a waitress.

“What’ll it be?” she asked with a curious New Jersey accent.

“Four milks, please,” Mike answered.

“Milks?” she looked confused.

“Yes, straight up, no chocolate, thank you.”

She walked away shaking her head. The man had finished singing and another patron was already on deck. It was a woman probably in her mid-30s belting out an impressive rendition of _Dream A Little Dream of Me_. Micky was scanning the room gauging the crowd interaction as well as the process. He noticed the person in the corner near the stage that was running the teleprompter. People appeared to be going over there and looking at several lists of what Micky assumed were songs. The waitress emerged with their milks and set them down before disappearing once again.

Micky took a swig of his milk and then stood up. “I’m going to go check out the DJ booth over there and get this party started. Who’s coming with me?”

Micky was met with a bunch of stone faced stares.

“I’m just here to observe,” Mike answered lamely.

“I’m waiting for more cute birds to show up,” Davy looked at the crowd of older middle-aged women.

Peter shrugged. “I’ll go!”

“Peter you are a true sport!”

“I thought we were singing, not playing sports,” Peter said as he followed Micky over to the booth.

Micky picked up one of the booklets of songs sitting near the booth. He flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

“Yes! They have it!” Micky shouted triumphantly.

“Have what?” Peter asked.

“The song I was hoping to sing.”

“You already had a song in mind, what is it?”

“Ah, Big Peter, you will just have to wait in anticipation until I get up there and do what I do best,” Micky said as he wrote his name and song down on a list the DJ had.

“You’re not going to fail a brilliant idea here, are you?”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Because that’s what you do best!” Peter answered innocently.

Micky looked slightly annoyed and shoved the booklet into Peter’s hands. “Here pick one.”

Peter studied the pages intently. “I can’t even begin to know what I would choose! There are so many choices!”

“Do you have a favorite song?”

“Not necessarily, it wouldn’t be fair to the other songs if I picked a favorite.”

“Any one that reminds you of a good time?”

“I mean all of our songs do, but I can’t sing those, they don’t have them."

Micky contemplated for a moment. “Maybe a tribute then to your best friend.”

Peter’s face lit up instantly. “I know exactly what to choose!”

“What is it?”

“I can’t tell you then it wouldn’t be a surprise!” Peter wrote down his decision.

The pair headed back to their seats to wait their turns. There were a couple people ahead of them. The musical stylings had gone back to less than impressive now and it seemed as though most of the customers were becoming wary of the bad singing. They were finishing their drinks and emptying out the front row. Mike cringed at the thought of the man onstage feeling bad because everyone was leaving as he sung _Pretty Woman_.

“Well, this is seeming like a bust,” Davy criticized as he looked at his well-manicured fingernails.

Mike looked at the near empty front row and couldn’t say he disagreed so he didn’t say anything.

“Don’t you worry, things are going to pick back up once Peter and I get up there and strut our stuff. Isn’t that right, Peter?”

“I can’t strut; I didn’t pick a Rolling Stones song.”

Micky face palmed and ran his hand down the length of his face. His ear perked up though when he heard himself being summoned to the stage. “Excuse me, gentlemen, I have to go wow the audience.”

“Go get ‘em!” Mike cheered.

Micky got up onstage and stuck out like a sore thumb in his get up. People at the other tables seemed to start whispering to each other probably wondering what this flashy fool was going to do. The last remaining people in the front row asked their waitresses for the check as if they wanted to leave before a perceived train wreck. Everyone in the room’s attention was caught by a familiar guitar riff as Micky readied himself to perform.

“_Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans Way back up in the woods among the evergreens There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode Who never ever learned to read or write so well But he could play a guitar just like a-ringin' a bell_

_Go go Go Johnny go go Go Johnny go go Go Johnny go go Go Johnny go go Johnny B. Goode…”_

The crowd seemed to perk up at Micky’s outstanding vocals. The front row customers waved away the check and asked for another round as they settled in to keep listening to the curly haired singer. Micky was performing to the best of his abilities. He didn’t get to be the showman he naturally was very often since he was seated behind the drums. Everyone was getting to see the pent up, excited energy that was Micky Dolenz.

He ended the song with his last _“Johnny B. Goode”_ and was met with roaring applause from the remaining audience members. Micky bowed a few times and made his way off the stage. People were congratulating him on the way back to the table for a job well done. Micky was eating it all up and came back to the table with a huge grin on his face.

“A bust, huh? That certainly seemed to set the tone for the rest of the evening,” Micky said boastfully.

“You sure did set the bar pretty high there, Mick,” Mike agreed. “I’d hate to be the person that has to follow that performance.”

“Peter, to the stage,” the DJ announced.

Peter gulped. “I guess that’s me that has to follow that act.”

“Don’t worry, Peter,” Davy consoled.

“I was only kidding, Shotgun,” Mike reassured. “If anyone has to follow Micky it’s better to be any of us.”

Peter nodded and made his way towards the stage.

Micky applauded loudly to boost Peter’s confidence. “Let’s hear it for my buddy, Peter!” and everyone else clapped along with him.

Peter took his place onstage and held his hand up to pause the DJ starting the song. “I chose this song in honor of my best friend…”

Micky smiled broadly and looked at Mike and Davy.

“…Davy Jones! Who is sitting right back there!” Peter finished pointing at their table.

Micky’s face fell. Davy sunk low into his chair and put a hand over his face which was beet red. An acoustic sound began to play over the speakers as Peter put the microphone up.

_“_ _Hey! Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to Hey! Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you…”_

People seemed mesmerized by Peter’s haunting rendition of the Bob Dylan song. Everyone seemed to be swaying along with the tune.

_“_ _And take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind Down the foggy ruins of time Far past the frozen leaves The haunted frightened trees Out to the windy beach Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky With one hand waving free Silhouetted by the sea Circled by the circus sands With all memory and fate Driven deep beneath the waves Let me forget about today until tomorrow_

_Hey! Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to Hey! Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you”_

Peter concluded the song and was met with a lighter applause than Micky had gotten, probably due to the mellow nature of the song itself. Peter had a huge smile on his face as he exited the stage and made his way towards his friends again. He nearly collided with a large group of women that were headed for the front row of the establishment. When Peter got to the table he was met with praise.

“I knew you could do it, Shotgun.”

“A touching tribute,” Micky teased a still embarrassed Davy.

“Yes, Peter thank you for that lovely homage,” he was able to muster as the red began to drain from his face.

Peter was beaming. “Thanks you guys! I was so nervous.”

“Alright, alright,” the DJ came over the speaker. “I’m going to take a short break. There is no one signed up for the remainder of the night. I know that it is intimidating to follow two such brilliant performances, but it’s all for fun! Come sign up!”

Micky stared down the two karaoke virgins at the table. “Okay, you two it’s your turns.”

“No thanks,” Mike said plainly.

“Hey Davy, there’s a bunch of girls that just walked in and are sitting up front. A perfect time to put on that British charm.”

Davy glanced over at the full table. One woman was wearing a veil and most of them appeared to be quite inebriated already. It had to have been a bachelorette party. He watched as a couple of them headed over to the DJ stand to browse the musical selection.

“Excuse me, fellas.”

Davy made his way to the DJ stand as the others watched. He went straight up to the women and began talking to them about the songs in the booklet. The girls were giggling and swooning already.

“Oh brother,” Mike commented rolling his eyes.

They continued to watch as Davy flashed them his winning smile and added his own name to the list. And then made a gesture in between him and another girl, as she wrote her name down too. Either he was committing to a duet or saying if he was going to do it she had to as well. After bidding them a farewell, he sauntered back over to the table looking quite pleased with himself.

“Feeling a little more ambitious about performing?” Micky teased.

Davy shrugged. “Well, you know, the ladies were commenting on my voice and how my singing voice must be just as lovely so I thought I’d let them see for themselves.”

“I think I might vomit,” Mike deadpanned.

“Which song did you pick?” Peter asked interestedly.

“One by my favorite artist…and one sure to make those ladies go wild,” Davy winked.

“Now I’m going to be sick too,” Micky feigned vomiting on the side of the table.

“Oh come off it,” Davy pushed Micky. “You wanted us to experience this. I just have to do it on my terms.”

The DJ came back and announced the next song. “Okay and we’re back ladies and gentlemen. I have a Davy next.”

Davy got up and put his hands on Micky’s shoulders. “Eat your heart out fellas.”

Davy made his way up to the stage and made a small, flirty wave to the bachelorette party table which they all ate right up. He took the microphone and went right to the edge of the stage near the party’s table. Some familiar, sappy instrumental began to play over the speaker.

“Here we go,” Mike said sounding a tad disgusted.

“_Wise men say only fools rush in But I can't help falling in love with you Shall I stay? Would it be a sin If I can't help falling in love with you?_

_Like a river flows surely to the sea Darling so it goes Some things are meant to be Take my hand, take my whole life too For I can't help falling in love with you…”_

During the course of his performance, Davy would outstretch his hand to the girls which they would latch onto immediately. They all sat with dreamy looks on their faces and were leaning their heads in their hands. He then sat on the stage’s edge and crooned the last bit of the song to them. At the end, the women all erupted in applause and as Davy walked past a couple of them pulled in closer to kiss him on the cheek. He came back to the table blushing with lipstick smears on his cheeks and a lopsided grin.

“Man, everyone’s really stepping in up tonight here. I wasn’t expecting to have a lady killer among us. Next I have the bridal party coming up.”

“What a performance!” Micky clapped.

“It sounded good? You can’t really compete with Elvis,” Davy smirked.

“Not the singing! I mean the gaga eyes you were making at those girls,” Micky laughed.

Davy folded his arms and pouted a little. “I didn’t see you get that kind of response when you left the stage.”

“No, I just got a standing ovation and kept the butts in the seats.”

“If they were standing then their butts weren’t in the seats,” Peter pointed out.

The banter was disrupted by loud talking coming from the speakers. “This song is dedicated to our dear friend, Margie, who is getting married tomorrow!”

Three girls from the bachelorette party began caterwauling _Chapel of Love_.

“Yes Davy, those are some lovely ladies up there,” Mike cringed at the high-pitched, off-key sound.

“I wasn’t flirting with them for their singing ability you know.”

“Then what was it for? Did you want a date to the wedding for free cake?” Micky joked. “It must be really hard out in the dating world right now, huh, so you have to go slumming at the karaoke bar.”

“I think those girls sound great. You shouldn’t make fun of people for having the courage to get up there and sing in front of people,” a particularly off-key “love” made Peter wince. “On second thought, I’ve heard better.”

The guys looked on as the girls finished their song and were pulling a hesitant bride on to the stage.

“Hey, it looks like someone was just blindsided into doing a performance,” the DJ announced. “Don’t be shy, Miss. Bride.”

The girls stood up there in support as the bride reluctantly sung the lyrics to _(Today I Met) The Boy I’m Gonna Marry_. She didn’t sound half bad except for some nerves.

“I see a theme with their musical choices,” Mike commented.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Peter dabbed his eyes with a tissue.

“And people always say Davy’s the romantic,” Micky said shaking Peter’s shoulders.

“Wow, I didn’t realize we had been here so long already,” Davy mentioned looking at his watch.

“You’re right,” Mike said looking at his own.

“Time flies when you’re having fun with Micky’s brilliant activity picks,” Micky gloated.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Mike teased. “I wonder how late this shindig goes until…”

“Well, my friends it’s that time of the night…” the DJ announced.

“That answered your question,” Davy remarked.

“…We have time for one final song of the night. Any takers?”

“C’mon Mike!” Micky exclaimed.

“No way,” Mike nixed the idea immediately.

“We all did it Mike. You have to!” Peter urged.

“I’m not looking to go up there and make a fool of myself.”

“Are you saying that the rest of us did?” Davy said defensively.

“No, you didn’t but I know that I would.”

“You do just fine when we perform our music,” Micky stated.

“I feel in my element then and here I just don’t.”

“Still looking for that final act,” the DJ reiterated. “I see the table over there that has been crushing performances all night has one more occupant. What do you say, partner?”

“You’ve been summoned,” Davy said, “You have to be a Southern gentleman and oblige.”

“Nope.”

“Mike, Mike, Mike,” Micky began chanting.

“Please stop making a spectacle of us and I will go up there,” Mike finally agreed.

Mike headed up to the DJ booth with his head down and his hands jammed in his pockets. He approached the DJ and began talking to him. The DJ nodded his head and Mike took the stage.

“I present to you all…Mike!”

The other three Monkees began applauding loudly and Mike visibly was blushing onstage. Music started playing that almost sounded like mariachi music. Mike continued to look down with one fist jammed in his pocket and the other holding the microphone low near his mouth.

_“Love is a burnin' thing And it makes a fiery ring Bound by wild desire I fell into a ring of fire_

_I fell into a burnin' ring of fire I went down, down, down And the flames went higher And it burns, burns, burns The ring of fire, the ring of fire…”_

Mike’s Southern drawl was very apparent during this song. He was able to have a deeper sound to his voice than he normally did in order to rival that of Johnny Cash. Other patrons began swaying along with the music and clapping to the beat. Mike even seemed to be getting into the spirit more, tapping his foot along to the beat and eventually looking up into the crowd. He ended with one last deep “the ring of fire.” Despite Micky’s claim earlier, Mike was the one that was actually met with a standing ovation. He handed the DJ the microphone back and hurriedly headed back to the table.

“Wow, ladies and gentlemen you’ve stepped up your game tonight. I didn’t know we were going to have so many ringers. That’s all the time we have for the night. Come see us again every Friday night for karaoke!” the DJ concluded the adventure.

“Outstanding performance, Michael,” Peter clapped.

“Thanks, good buddy,” Mike cheeks took on a crimson hue.

“You nailed it! And you didn’t even want to do it,” Davy clapped a hand on Mike’s back.

“It’s safe to say we blew everyone out of the water,” Micky exclaimed. “Successful activity night!”

The guys started exiting to restaurant and headed towards the Monkeemobile.

“I’ll admit it to you, Mick, that was pretty fun,” Mike smiled.

“Yeah, I may even be looking forward to your pick for the next month!” Peter said excitedly.

“Let’s not get that far ahead of ourselves,” Davy said warily.

“My mind is already racing with possibilities,” Micky tapped his fingers together like an evil villain. “What would you guys say to skydiving?”

“No!” the other three screamed loudly in unison.


End file.
